


reaper

by ameliafuckingshepherd



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Background Case, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Crimes & Criminals, Death, Depression, Drug Use, Murder, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smoking, Survivor Guilt, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:09:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliafuckingshepherd/pseuds/ameliafuckingshepherd
Summary: Emily Prentiss finally reaches her breaking point, but it's not all at once. falling apart happens gradually.





	reaper

**Author's Note:**

> yall,,this is bad. Honestly. It’s just not good. It’s messy, it’s sloppy, it’s just bad. I swear I’m a better writer than this.

Emily Prentiss could deal with anything the world threw at her.

she spent her childhood changing herself to fit other cultures, other people's views of how she should be. she'd lived all over the world. she spoke ten different languages. she wasn't weak.

she lived ten different lives at once during her INTERPOL days. she didn't mind it.

compartmentalize.  
repress.  
overcome.  
how else are you supposed to survive?

every time she shut her eyes, she felt the rod Doyle stabbed through her stomach as if it were still there. she remembered her vision growing fuzzy, the darkness pulling at her, begging her to just give in. just give up. she told Morgan to let her go, but he just held her tighter. tears fell from his eyes, and Emily almost smiled. Derek Morgan, crying over her half-dead body.

that was something no one else could do.

Emily closed her eyes and curled into the concrete. she had been so, so tired. 

it would be easy to let go.

Emily woke up with a gasp. she hardly made it to the bathroom before throwing up. blood drenched her hands, lingering from the nightmare. she threw up again and sank to the floor.

before she knew it, she was sobbing. loud, wailing, miserable sobbing.

maybe, just maybe, she was having a little trouble coping.

twelve children had been murdered before they caught the unsub.

twelve kids dead because they hadn't been good enough to save them, because _Emily_ hadn't been good enough to save them. this was her fault. 

if she had driven the car faster or interviewed more people or spent more time studying the case, would the outcome have been better? if she wasn't on the team, if there was someone else in her place, would they have caught the man who did it two weeks ago instead of one? 

how many lives could be saved if Emily was better? 

cuts appeared on her arms like gory tally marks. a cut for the graves crowded in a cemetary that was far too small. a cut for every case file piled on JJ's desk. Emily knew they couldn't save everyone.

That was the job.

But it was still somehow her fault.

last week, two newborns had been kidnapped, their throats slit. she had her gun out, pointed at the unsub's chest. An Asian woman in her mid-thirties whos child had recently died of cancer held one of the babies in her arms, the other dead on the ground behind her. 

"Miss Montague, put the knife down," Emily commanded. She woman didn't move. the baby squirmed and cried. his arms flailed, reaching for a monther who was not there. "hurting him won't bring your son back."

"shut up! just shut the hell up," the unsub shouted. "you don't know me, you don't know my life!"

"I know that your son Andrew died last week. I know that he had been fighting leukemia for a long time, but we weren't getting any better. you held his hand while he died, didn't you? it was in the middle of the night, and your husband didn't want to be there. you were angry." Emily watched the woman carefully. she waited for any sign that she was about to hurt the child. "Miss Montague, put the knife down and give me the baby."

"no."

"it doesn't need to happen like this. give me the baby now and no one will get hurt." 

before Emily could react, the unsub plunged the knife into the kid's chest. three different guns went off, taking her down. the baby's lifeless body fell to the ground, and Emily ran towards him.

she scooped him into her arms. his eyes were wide, but he didn't scream. every time he breathed, something gurgled and wheezed. Perforated lung, probably. she always had a soft spot for kids. every case with young victims brought up painful memories, ones she'd tried to forget. she needed to protect them. it was her job, not just as an Agent, but as a woman. as a human. as someone who'd watched Doyle's son grow up and tried to save him and failed, just like she failed with everything else.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry I failed you.”

"Prentiss, give him to me," Rossia said quietly from beside her. 

Emily shook her head. This was her fault. She deserved to see it through.

the baby did not die for several more minutes. the ambulance wouldn't get there in time and even if they did, she wasn't sure if they could help. she could see the child's organs, lifting from the blood with every pained breath. she couldn't look away. 

finally, his breathing slowed, then stopped. the grip on Emily's shirt relaxed, and his body went limp. An EMT attempted to take him from her arms, but she wouldn’t let go.

Rossi knelt next to her in the dirt. "Emily. he's gone." 

Emily shook her head. "he's just a baby, Rossi."

"I know, kid." 

"it's not fair."

"I know."

Emily pressed a kiss to the baby's forehead and handed him to Rossi. if she held on any longer, she wouldn't be able to let go. She heard Rossi's footsteps retreating behind her, but sudden tears clouded her vision so much she couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed. 

Morgan pulled her to her feet, she stumbled briefly before standing on her own. 

"come on Princess. let's get you cleaned up." 

Emily was wrapped in a blanket in the back of the car. Hotch drove, occasionally glancing back at her. JJ was talking quietly on the phone in the front seat. Emily leaned her head against the window and watched the trees fly by.

the baby was hardly a week old. his blood covered her and she could feel his hands gripping her as he died. she found herself wondering how someone could do that. 

she was vaguely aware of JJ saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. 

"Em?" 

Emily lifted her eyes to look at JJ. she was too drained to speak. 

"that was the family. they...they want to talk to you. do you think you could do that?"

"yeah," Emily said, but the word got stuck in her throat. she coughed and tried again. "yes."

Hotch and JJ shared a look, _the_ look they give each other when they know something no one else in the room does. she'd seen them do it a thousand times, during interviews, at crime scenes, talking to the families of the victims. it meant _it would be inappropriate to say it out loud, but I just realized something terrible and I think you did, too._

Emily slept for the rest of the drive home.

she changed clothes before meeting with the victim's family. Two women held hands tightly while a boy around three played with legos in the corner of the room. 

"are you agent Prentiss?"

Emily nodded. One of the women had stood up. 

"i am so sorry for your loss, ma'am." Emily twisted her fingers nervously. "if there's anything i can do, let me kn-"

the woman crushed her in a hug. "they told me what you did. how you held my son while he died. at least he died with you." 

"oh. i...it's what any of us would have done."

the second woman looked up from her spot on the couch. her eyes were red and puffy, and she clutched a tissue with desperation. "no it's not. you were the only one who went to our son first. you...you...you made sure he was safe when he-" but she couldn't finish. she started crying again. her wife broke apart from Emily and went to comfort her. 

The walls seemed to be closing in. her ears began to ring and the crying family seemed far, far away. Emily's back hit the door. She started running and didn’t stop until she was locked in a supply closet. She began hyperventilating, but she couldn’t bring herself to calm down. The room swayed, floor coming up to meet her knees. 

She heard her name being called outside. Someone came into the room. Heavy, purposeful strides and a cologne she couldn’t quite place-it was Hotch.

“Emily, take a deep breath,” he murmured. 

She gasped, but her lungs refused to stop their panicked convulsions. Hotch crouched next to her, and Emily practically collapsed onto him. She hugged him without thinking, needing desperately to have physical contact with someone, anyone. 

Eventually, her breathing slowed to match Hotch’s. He probably knew that technique from raising Jack. if a kid is upset, you pick them up so they can feel your breaths. Eventually, their body will match yours. Emily had used it before on victim’s families, on Declan, and on countless others. She did not like having it used on her. 

There was a lot she didn’t like about today.

They never spoke of that incident again.

Hotch followed rules, but when it came to the wellbeing of his team, he would be more than happy to break protocol. Emily was thankful for that.

Months passed, and she boxed up the Montague case files and sent them back to the local PD. she sent the memories with them. 

She’d still have dreams. She’s wake up and hear the rattling, final breath or a life far too young to end. She’d be in the shower, and suddenly the water felt all too much like blood. Emily brushed it off.

It was one case. 

She just needed a little while to forget it. 

She was fine because she was Emily Prentiss, and the Prentiss women were always fine. They were calm and collected, and they never broke under pressure. She wasn’t going to lose that now.

In December, she took a blade to her wrist. 

Strauss made them all take a few weeks off after a particularly difficult case. Emily was not happy.

Work kept the demons away. Work made her forget Doyle and the baby and every other horrifying case she’d ever worked. So now, she sat on her bathroom floor, body present but mind far away. Voices whispered in her ear. She couldn’t make them go away. No matter how much she drank or how much TV she watched, they never left. 

_life is dispair,_ they told her. _everything is pointless._

_pointless._

She dragged the razor blade down her arm, and the voices grew quieter. 

But they were back the next day and the day after that.

Rossi invited everyone over for dinner. Emily hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she saw his text. When was the last time she’d eaten? A day? Two? Some part of her had been lost in the last week. How had things gotten so bad so quickly?

She changed out of her sweatpants for the first time in what felt like forever. A gun rested at her hip. She didn’t go anywhere without one, now. The world was far too unpredictable. 

Rossi lived twenty minutes away. Emily drove with the heater on full blast. Snow collected on trees, just starting to stick to the ground. A few teenagers ran down the street. One slipped on the ice, and Emily almost pulled over, but her friends helped her up, and they all continued on laughing. 

Even as a young girl, Emily never had friends like that. She was the ambassador’s daughter. A driver took her to and from school, and it’s not like anyone wanted to come over afterward. The houses they lived in were never child-friendly, the rooms seeming to belong to a ghost instead of a thirteen-year-old and her mother. 

Emily shut her eyes. When she opened them, those memories were locked behind the doors as they should be.

She pulled up to Rossi’s house ten minutes late. There was traffic, and the line at the store she’d stopped at to buy a bottle of wine had been ridiculously long. Morgan opened the door, and she was hit with a blast of warm air. 

“Hey, Em. thought you weren’t gonna show,” he said with a grin. Emily laughed and shut the door behind her. 

“Well, i thought about it when i saw the weather.” she took off her jacket and hung it on a peg by the wall. “But then i thought about you guys hanging out without me, and i wouldn't want to put a damper on the mood like that.”

This was met with laughs. JJ handed her a glass of wine. Garcia kissed her on the cheek and showed her pictures of Sergio’s new collar. It was pink and sparkly, because what else would Garcia give her cat? Reid sat on the counter while Hotch quizzed him on a cold case from the seventies that Reid insisted he knew inside and out. 

“Who was the last person they interrogated before dropping the case?”

“Oh! Uh, it was...it was a woman, right? Late thirties, three kids, lived next to the victim. Sarah Manson!”

“Wrong,” Hotch exclaimed. “His name was Max Manson, and he was Sarah’s husband.”

Reid groaned. JJ laughed and pat him on the back. “It’s okay Spence, you can’t be right all the time.”

“Yes, I can! I was so close!”

“Close doesn’t count, Pretty boy,” Morgan teased. 

Reid looked to Emily for help. She shrugged. “Sorry, kid, I’m helping with dinner.”

Emily picked up a carrot and showed him. Rossi rolled his eyes. “Get over here and cut that up if you’re gonna wave it around like you’re Harry Potter.”

“Who’s Harry Potter?” 

There was a beat of silence before the room erupted into hysterics. 

“Oh, pretty boy. Pretty, pretty, baby boy,” Morgan sighed. 

“What? What’s harry potter? Guys!”

Emily refocused on the carrot. She was feeling a little dizzy. Probably just the wine. The knife slipped, and she dropped it, swearing. Blood welled up and dripped down her palm. 

Rossi looked at her hand, frowning. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. just a scratch.”

“Come on, I’ll get you a bandage.”

Emily followed him to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub while he searched a cabinet for medical supplies. She pressed a paper towel to the cut, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Rossi emerged, holding a roll of gauze. 

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined the night going,” Emily said, mostly to herself.

“That’s the way it works when you’re like us.”

“Yeah, well-ah.” Emily squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the burn of antiseptic to subside. “Wish they had told me that on the application.”

Rossi chuckled. Emily watched while he wrapped her hand. Blood was drying on her sleeve; she could feel it dripping down her arm. Rossi secured the gauze with a piece of tape. 

“Here, wipe the blood off your arm.” He handed her a damp washcloth. 

Without thinking, Emily unbuttoned the cuff of her blouse and rolled it up. “Seriously, Rossi, I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Hey, I just don’t want to get sued.” It was Emily’s turn to laugh. He turned back around. If Emily hadn’t been watching the blood wipe off, she would have caught Rossi’s small flinch on the left side of his face and the involuntary jerk of his hand, indicating brief shock, a reaction to the surprise. 

“You’d be broke by the time my lawyer was done with you,” she quipped. When Rossi didn’t respond, Emily looked up. The smile fell from her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Your arm.” Emily inhaled sharply and made to tug her sleeve down. He stopped her and came closer to look. Before she could get a word out, he silenced her with a look. “I’m a profiler. Don’t you think I haven’t noticed you acting strangely since Doyle? Since the Montague case?”

Emily pulled her arm away and hid the wounds. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Emily, you can talk to me.”

“I should go. Thanks for the help.” 

Somehow, Emily felt number than before. She walked as fast as she could to the door and grabbed her coat. 

“Prentiss, wait!”

She stepped into the blistering cold and did not look back.

“Is she okay?”

Dave didn’t answer JJ. Aaron set down his glass and put a hand on Dave’s shoulder. 

“Dave, what’s wrong?”

He considered his options. He could tell Hotch the truth, let him and Strauss deal with it. There’d be paperwork, therapy, a psych eval, and Emily would probably be taken out of the field temporarily. It would kill her.

Or he could lie. He could tell Hotch there was a family emergency, or tell them she was sick. He’d go to her apartment tomorrow to check on her. Maybe she would open up after she had some time to think.

“i...Her mom called. Something about a family emergency. I’m not sure, she just said it was urgent.”

Everyone relaxed visibly. 

“Good, good. She hasn’t been the same since Doyle. When she ran out I thought maybe...no. nevermind,” Morgan shook his head. “It’s none of my business.”

The party continued, but Dave’s thoughts kept drifting to Emily. 

There were long cuts covering her left arm. Some were crudely steristripped together. One ran from elbow to mid wrist before tapering off. It had been stitched together, but obviously not by a doctor. His gut told him it was a bad idea to leave Emily alone right now, but what else could he do? Running after her would only have raised suspicion.

When the night came to an end, Dave made a snap decision and held Aaron back. 

“There’s something going on with Prentiss. I need your help. Not as her boss, but as her friend. Can you do that?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Alright.”

As soon as Emily got home, she hurled her purse against the wall. It hit a painting and took it to the ground with a loud crash. 

_ “fuck! How could I be this fucking stupid?”_

Emily raked a hand through her hair and began pacing. 

Rossi would tell Hotch.

Hotch would tell Strauss.

They might suspend her, or worse.

She let out another curse and slammed her fist on the counter. Her phone rang. She let it go to voicemail and slid to the ground. 

She fell asleep on the floor and didn’t wake for a long time.

Emily dragged herself to the shower as soon as she woke up. Everything hurt from sleeping on the floor, and a foul taste hung in her mouth.

_Wash your hair._

_Take deep breaths, the water isn't blood, it’s just water_

_Wash your face._

_You aren’t drowning._

_Shave. _

_The cold metal isn’t a knife or a gun. It’s just a razor._

The voices only added to the pounding of her head, yet another thought bouncing around. Emily dried off and dressed. Next up was coffee. She didn’t work without coffee. The apartment was immaculate as always, the only sign anything had happened being the shattered picture frame and purse.

She shut her eyes and tried not to remember. 

A shot of vodka found its way into her coffee, and Emily sat down at the table and checked her phone. 

Missed call from JJ.

Missed call from Hotch.

Missed call and a text from Rossi. 

_dave: i’m sorry if I upset you last night. I want to help you, Em._  
dave: and don’t worry about anyone else finding out.  
Emily: thanks dave, but like I said last night, i don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine. 

Okay. she’d play this off as if nothing happened. Maybe he’d just forget. It was a long shot, but there wasn’t much else she could do. 

Emily had just finished her coffee when someone knocked on her door. Immediately, her gun was out. But the peephole only showed Hotch and Rossi. Why were they at her house? It was eleven in the morning, and they couldn’t have a case since they were all on mandatory leave. She prepared a smile and unlocked the door.

“Hotch, Rossi, what can I do for you?”

Hotch stood slightly behind Rossi. His shoulders hunched minimally, but enough to show he was worried about something. Rossi didn’t return her smile. 

“Can we come in?”

“Sure,” Emily said. She opened the door wider. “Do you want coffee? I just made a pot.” 

“Actually, we-” Hotch began. Rossi put a hand up to silence him. 

“That would be great.”

Emily pointed towards the dining table. “You can sit down if you’d like.” 

She poured and brought over two cups of coffee. 

“Thank you, Emily,” Hotch said.

“Emily? Sounds like I’m in trouble,” She chuckled. Hotch and Rossi exchanged a look, silent conversation passing between them. Emily was starting to regret making that joke.

“You’re not in trouble. We wanted to check-in, make sure you’re okay.”

“I appreciate it, Rossi, and like I already said, I’m fine.”

She was starting to be really glad she’d spiked her coffee.

“Prentiss. show me your arm,” Hotch said quietly. It did not sound like a request.

“Why?”

“You know why.” 

Emily stared past them. The DC skyline was dusted with snow. The city was grey under the cover of the clouds, but everything always seemed gray lately.

“Look. I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I don’t need any help. It’s been hard lately, but I can handle it. I can always handle it. Now if you don’t mind, I have a date with my laptop and some old case files.”

“Of course,” Rossi said, smiling begrudgingly. “Have a nice day, Emily.”

Rossi left, but Hotch stayed behind for a moment. “Emily, you can trust me. Whatever you say stays between us.”

“I know. Thank you. But seriously, I’m fine. Get out of here and spend your leave with Jack.” She shoved his shoulder, getting a little smile out of her unit chief. 

“Jack is at a friend’s house until tomorrow.”

His implied offer hung in the air. Emily thought of that day in the supply closet and briefly wondered how long ago he’d connected the dots. 

“Goodbye, Aaron.”

A month passed.

Then a year. 

Scars covered Emily’s arms, then her legs, then her stomach. What once turned into pink lines now turned to raised, red, scar tissue. When she didn’t have the energy to cut she would drink. If she was on the job, she’d smoke. It was easy to fall back into her teenage habits.

Humans never change. Not really.

Cases seemed to get under her skin more. She became agitated and on edge almost constantly. It’s not that she wanted to be ever vigilant. She just didn’t have a choice.

She stood with Morgan and JJ at the crime scene. It was only two am, and she was already staring two dead bodies. But what else was new?

“Vic was ten, male, found with his stepmother. Dad’s gone. Right now, he’s out the main suspect,” An officer summarized. 

Emily crouched next to the bodies and lifted the sheet off their faces. The kid was blonde, young-looking for his age, with a scar on his shoulder. The stepmother was blonde, but her face had been so disfigured Emily wouldn’t see much else. A knife rose from the woman’s stomach. Emily felt her own turn, fingers instinctively flitting over the place of her own scar, the reminder of a table leg through her body and a love lost forever.

Before she knew what she was doing, Emily was running. She found herself asking the same question she’d been asking almost every day.

Why did all this bother her now?

“Prentiss, are you okay?”

Emily’s gun was out before she could process who it was. Morgan stood in the alley behind her. She lowered it and winced. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he said, approaching her cautiously. “Hey, what’s going on with you?”

“Derek...I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Sudden tears welled up in Emily’s eyes, and before she could stop them, they came running down her face, falling faster than she could wipe them away. 

_weak. Worthless, weak girl._

_You deserve this, Emily,_ the voices convinced her.

“Everything.”

Morgan stepped forward and hugged her, and Emily found herself clinging to him. She sobbed into his shoulder. 

Why?

Why was this happening?

“You can tell me anything, princess. You know that.”

Emily pulled away and wiped her cheeks. “Yeah. thanks, Morgan. I, uh, I should get back to the station. Tell Hotch and Rossi what the local PD told me.”

“Okay. Stay safe.” When Emily was out of sight, Derek pulled out his phone and pressed speed dial. “Hotch? Yeah, it’s Morgan. Something’s wrong with Prentiss. She said she’s going to the station, but I’m not sure if I believe her...right. Sure. it’s no problem. Talk later.”

Morgan tailed Emily to her hotel, but he was an idiot if he thought she didn’t know. She’d never been more paranoid in her life. Nothing could get past her. She scanned her key and let herself in. JJ’s things were thrown all over, but Emily didn’t mind. She didn’t get to be messy at home with Will and the boys, and Emily was no stranger to chaos. 

She was about the shut the door when she sighed. “Come on, Morgan. I know you’re out there.”

She stared into the darkness. 

Nothing stared back. 

Emily rolled her eyes and locked the door. Let them think they were being subtle. It won’t do any good to let them into her life, anyway.

Emily lay on the bathroom floor in a pool of vodka and blood. You know, just her average Saturday night.

For every gash in her skin, she took a shot. 

It wasn’t even about her faliures as an Agent anymore. Of course, they didn’t help. The world was colorless, every day the same. She couldn’t take it. Every time she dragged a knife across her skin, the pain overwhelmed her. It took her to a different world, if only for a second. It was worth what followed.

By the time she was done, she couldn’t remember her own name.

Exhaustion tugged at her, begged her to join it, begged her to just close her eyes and go to sleep.

_everything will be better if you’re gone. _

_You’re worthless, Emily. _

_worthless._

“Shut up,” she whispered, right before throwing up. “Shut up!”

They tugged at her, swirling around her body with a current that threatened to pull her under. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she’d never felt so cold.

Maybe if she just laid down…

If your body is telling you to faint, you should try to fight it. That’s logical survival 101. But how good would it feel to just lie down here? Lie down, shut her eyes, and never wake back up?

Emily’s cheek hit the edge of the tub. Something crashed, and she went numb. 

Voices shouted at her. The room pounded, or maybe that was just her head.

Emily crawled out of the bathroom. Every movement hurt, every light, every feeling sending shocks of pain through her. Hangover. She couldn’t even remember what happened last night. 

Screams echoed in her head like she was in the middle of an orchestra pit composed of children. 

“Stop yelling,” she groaned. 

Somewhere between the bedroom and the kitchen, Emily threw up again. 

_you’re hideous. _

_Disgusting._

_Look at yourself, Emily! _

_Life is a burden._

_You’re pointless._

“Shut up,” Emily begged. “Please stop, I’ll do anything, just _shut up._”

They hissed, and Emily’s vision went black and red.

She threw herself into her work, mixing espresso with whiskey to make the nights pass faster. Paperwork dwindled, then surged back. Rapes, murders, arson. It didn’t faze her. That couldn’t be healthy.

Emily slept on the flight home, dreaming of trauma years past, of what could have been, while her team tried to tell themselves that she was okay.

Of course, they knew. They’d all seen her arms. But they couldn’t bring themselves to say anything. They tried to help her, but despite being profilers, they couldn’t figure out what the hell to do. Their own issues always took the back burner when it came to priorities. 

Other lives were on the line.

They trusted Emily. But Emily did not trust herself.

Hotch quit. 

It made sense, of course.

Then Morgan left. 

The BAU circled the wagon, protecting each other, desperately trying to prevent any more harm from coming to the little family. No one was coping well. 

People kept dying, the people they loved, and everything was changing. Emily was unit chief, but it didn’t make much of a difference to her one way or another. 

Everything would be better if she was gone. She’d been thinking it for years, but it was finally starting to sound true. 

Emily bled day and night, not an inch of skin left untouched.

They all had problems.

She could deal with it on her own.

The gun was cold in her hand.

she raised it to her temple, rested her finger on the trigger. 

She was not scared.

She was not upset. 

When she shot herself, the whispers would stop, the ghosts and demons haunting her very existence would leave, and Emily Prentiss would finally be able to rest.

_three._

Who would find her body?

_two._

JJ? Reid? Morgan?

Garcia?

God, it would destroy them.

_one._

The weapon clattered to the floor.

She couldn’t even kill herself.

Was there anything Emily could do right?

**Author's Note:**

> yeah this wasn't great. i'm really stressed out because school started and i'm SO FUCKING BUSY i can't stay sober or clean for a day. but that's nothing new. anyway, this was a struggle to finish and I hardly checked it over before i posted. luv yall x


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